


waltz among tombstones

by the_problem_with_stardust



Series: Sterek Week 2017 [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Dead People, Ghosts, Halloween, M/M, Magic, Magic Shop, Mild Gore, Necromancer Stiles Stilinski, Necromancy, Sterek Week, Sterek Week 2017, Stiles Stilinski Sees Ghosts, sterekhalloween3, this got darker than intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-25 19:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12539100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_problem_with_stardust/pseuds/the_problem_with_stardust
Summary: Stiles had a love/hate relationship with Halloween. On one hand, there was candy and costumes and parties. On the other was the ghosts. It was very hard to enjoy your breakfast when random people kept popping through your walls.See, Stiles had a Gift. But it wasn’t like most Gifts. Where other people were Gifted with dance, art, or language, Stiles saw dead people.Written for Sterek Week Day 7: Halloween





	waltz among tombstones

**Author's Note:**

> So this got a bit dark. Let me know if I need to tag update the tags. (Stiles sees dead people, including a little kid) 
> 
> Apparently even I can't make a story about necromancy fluffy. Enjoy?

Stiles had a love/hate relationship with Halloween. On one hand, there were candy and costumes and parties. On the other were the ghosts. It was very hard to enjoy your breakfast when random people kept popping through your walls.

See, Stiles had a Gift. But it wasn’t like most Gifts. Where other people were Gifted with dance, art, or language, Stiles saw dead people. And on Halloween, the veil between worlds was thinner.

After a particularly gruesome wraith melted through the refrigerator, Stiles dumped his cereal in the sink. Seeing a dude with a sword through his gut didn’t do much for his appetite.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay at work today?”

Stiles jumped, almost hitting Scott in the face. “Damn it, don’t do that!”

“Sorry.” Scott kept his hands shielding his face. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t want me to stick around.”

“It’s fine, Scotty. Just gotta make it through the next couple days.”

It would be nice to only see spirits where they belonged: in graveyards and occasionally along the roads when he was out driving. The floating-through walls thing was really not conducive to Stiles’ health. Or his personal hygiene. Having an old lady phase through his shower door was enough to put Stiles off of bathing for the rest of his life.

Luckily for him (and his resident werewolf), this was only an issue around Halloween. Stiles picked up his bag, running through his mental list to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. Scott automatically reached into the fridge and handed him his lunch.

“Thanks, man.” Stiles stuffed the paper bag in alongside his books. “Good luck today.”

Scott just waved him off. It was his first shift as Beacon Hills’ newest EMT. Stiles was incredibly proud. But also hoping he didn’t want to share stories. Because Stiles was squeamish as hell.

He slammed through the back door of the shop three minutes late, as usual. Lydia didn’t even look up from whatever potion she was mixing. “I’m surprised you’re here today.”

“Business owners don’t get days off.” Stiles threw his bag in alongside Lydia’s things before joining her at the counter. He peered into the beaker. “Something new?”

She caught his hand before he could even touch the weird flower sitting beside the Bunsen burner. “Yes. If you annoy me, I will test it on you.”

Stiles backed off immediately. One thing he learned from working with Lydia Martin was to never piss her off. Instead, he busied himself with getting the shop ready for business. Halloween was bound to be a busy day for people wanting last minute tricks and trinkets.

He was balancing the cash drawer when someone knocked at the door.

“You expecting anybody this early?”

Lydia stuck her head through the door. “No, but let them in. They’re here for you.”

Stiles grumbled, but dug out his keys. Lydia’s Gift included reading people’s intent. It was incredibly useful for catching shoplifters, but today Stiles did not want to deal with extra drama.

He pulled the door open, expecting to lecture the person on how store hours worked, but instead choked on his words. The man in front of him was model-level hot. And that stubble had to be illegal.

“Where is Stilinski?” he growled, eyes flicking past him into the store.

Stiles crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Depends on who’s asking.”

The man’s eyes flashed red. “Derek Hale.”

And suddenly, Stiles could sense the ghostly fingerprints all over the guy. The Hale pack had been murdered by hunters almost a decade ago and he was looking at the lone survivor.

“Come in.” Stiles stepped out of the way. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. And it was definitely going to end in heartbreak.

He called back to Lydia, saying he was with a client, before ushering Derek into their conference room.

The werewolf flinched when he closed the door. “Where is he?”

“Who?” Stiles tried to ignore the woman knitting in the corner. She looked kind of like Scott’s grandmother.

“Stilinski.” And wow. Stiles did not know an alpha could be this dense.

“Stiles Stilinski, co-owner of _Martin & Stilinski's Magyk Shoppe_.” Stiles held out his hand.

Derek stared at it blankly. “But you’re so…”

Stiles felt his grin go sharp. “Tall? Distinguished? Devilishly handsome?”

“Young.”

At that moment, a little girl stepped through the wall behind Derek. She had a teddy bear in one chubby fist and a hand gun in the other, her pretty dress stained with blood. Stiles tore his eyes away, heart heavy. He felt the opposite of young.

“Alright, Mr. Hale. I get the feeling we both already know why you’re here.” Stiles hardened his voice. “But I don’t do that kind of thing.”

“Really?” Derek raised his eyebrows. “My contact says that you do.”

Panic started building up in Stiles’ gut, but after years of living with Scott he knew how to hide it from a werewolf. “Well, your contact must be mistaken.”

“No. I don’t think they were.” The alpha had a dangerous look in his eye.

Stiles straightened up, feeling the darkness itching under his skin. The ghosts in the room shifted uneasily. “Are you threatening me, wolf?”

Derek took a step back, any hint of aggression vanishing in the face of soulless black eyes. Stiles knew what he looked like when he went dark-side, but he was willing to give in to the shadows if it kept his dad, Scott, Melissa, and Lydia safe.

“No. I’m sorry. He said that you’d done it before. Brought someone back.”

With a firm shake, Stiles let the darkness sink back into his bones. Lydia wouldn’t have let someone into the shop if they meant harm. “Who told you? That case was classified.”

“The man I got this from.” Derek slipped a medallion out of his pocket. It was carved with ancient symbols.

Stiles picked up the medallion, shuddering at the feel of someone else’s magic. “This is powerful,” he said. “What did you have to give in exchange?”

The werewolf looked shifty.

Stiles sighed. “You gave up your wolf?”

Derek nodded, shame plain on his face.

“Okay…” Stiles dropped the medallion back on the table, fighting the urge to go wash his hands. “But you got it back, so that’s good.”

At some point, the ghosts had slipped away. He paced the length of the table, turning the situation over in his head. Derek had contact with someone who knew all of Stiles’ dirty secrets. That was not a good sign.

“It wasn’t without a price.” Stiles finally broke the silence, halting his steps. “You have to decide what your loved one’s life is worth.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, avoiding the werewolf’s intense gaze. “I was twelve. And I wanted my mother back.”

Derek made a wounded noise. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I think I do.” Stiles sighed. “It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.” He scratched a hand through his hair, uncertain how to continue. “Death is about balance. To bring my mother back, I ended up killing someone else. There was a trial, the judge ruled me not guilty since I didn’t know I was Gifted. And what kid wouldn’t wish their mom was still alive?” Stiles let out a shaky laugh.

A warm hand settled on his arm, keeping him grounded. Derek was watching him, eyes full of pain. Stiles looked away.

“She died. Because bringing someone back doesn’t cure them.” He blinked and tried not to think about what it was like to lose his mother a second time.

Then strong arms were wrapped around his back and his face was pressed into Derek’s neck. Stiles squeezed back, feeling like that was the only thing keeping him together.

“I’m sorry I asked.” Derek murmured, voice rumbling against Stiles’ cheek. “I’m sorry you had to go through any of that.”

There was a growing damp spot on the werewolf’s collar. “I wish I could bring them back for you, Derek.”

They stayed like that until the door flew open. “Stiles.”

He jerked away from Derek, staring at Lydia. She looked unphased, as usual.

“What is that?”

Before Stiles could warn her about the slimy-feeling magic, Lydia was across the room and studying the medallion. She turned to Derek.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Derek shrugged, helpless. Lydia had that effect on people.

She picked the thing up gingerly, then beckoned Stiles closer. “Tell me what you feel.”

“It’s slimy.” Stiles had no choice but to hold the medallion again.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Beyond that.”

So Stiles tried, using his Gift to brush along the darkness inside. He gasped.

Derek was immediately in his space. “Are you okay?”

Stiles shook his head, dazed.

“We have some things to discuss. Could you wait outside?” Lydia didn’t give Derek a chance to talk back, just shoved him out the door, werewolf strength be damned.

Stiles felt the familiar rush of a ward going up, shielding them from werewolf ears. “This is the equivalent of six souls. Lydia, this could bring back his entire pack.”

She nodded. “That’s what I thought.” Walking over to one of the cabinets, she pulled out a bowl and some ingredients. “Can you control it?”

“Yeah.” The feeling of Derek’s warmth would definitely keep the shadows at bay.

Lydia hummed, thumb tracing over the carvings. “This could work. The magic contained in the artifact, should act as a sacrifice.”

“And that would be enough to bring back six people?” Stiles couldn’t help but feel doubtful.

“According to the research I’ve done, yes.” She tapped a manicured nail against the medallion. “You might lose your Gift though.”

Stiles let out a slow breath. “And it has to be done today?”

“Or we wait until next year.” Lydia wrinkled her nose at the idea.

“Okay.” Stiles nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Lydia passed him the bowl and a book of matches. “I’ll go fetch your wolf.”

Before Stiles even finished lighting the match, Derek tore into the room.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Stiles dropped the match into the bowl, watching as smoke curled up from the herbs. “I know. But this time, the outcome is worth the sacrifice.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

And that was an easy question. “Could you touch me?”

Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles’ waist, anchoring him. Stiles closed his eyes and called on the darkness, reaching for the weak point between realms. The shadows dragged at him, but he could still feel Derek calling him back.

It might have been hours or it might have been minutes when Stiles felt something inside of him break. The darkness slid away, leaving him limp and gasping. Derek’s support was the only thing keeping him off of the floor.

“Is he okay?” A woman asked.

Stiles opened his eyes and the conference room was packed with people. The woman speaking looked like Derek, who was still holding onto him hard enough to bruise his ribs.

“It worked?” Stiles croaked.

Derek loosened his grip. “It worked.” He sounded shocked.

“M’kay. I’m gonna nap now.”

\---

When Stiles came to, it was dark out. He was lying in a familiar hospital bed and Scott was snoring softly beside him. There were no ghosts anywhere. Stiles had a moment to wonder if his Gift was truly gone.

Then Scott blinked awake. “Dude. My first day and you decide to almost die?”

“I had to make sure you were doing your job right,” Stiles teased. He could tell by the bone-crushing hug that Scott was actually worried. “I’m sorry.”

Scott sat back. “Just try to be more careful.”

“I will.”

They sat in silence for a beat before Stiles remembered. “Fuck! How are the Hales?”

“They’re all doing really well. Doctor Deaton still has them under observation, but it looks like coming back from the dead had no lasting effects.”

Stiles relaxed. “Good.”

“And also, I think Derek has a thing for you.” Scott smirked.

“WHAT?!” It was a manly shriek.

“He’s been here the past three days.” Scott said. “Be careful, your Dad might propose for you.”

Stiles had no idea which part of the sentence to start with. “Three days?”

“Almost four.” Scott looked at the clock. “You’ve got another hour or so.”

Okay. That was longer than expected. "My dad?"

"They've been bonding. Over baseball." Scott made a face.

Stunned, Stiles sat back. “Propose?”

There was a quiet cough from the doorway. Both men looked up to see Derek standing just outside. “I was thinking maybe a date first?”

Stiles pinched himself. There was no way he wasn’t dreaming.

“And that’s my cue to leave.” Scott slid out of his chair. “See you in a bit, Stiles. Derek.”

Once the sound of his footsteps faded, Derek dropped down into the uncomfortable plastic seat. “I wanted to say thank you. For everything. And also to say that Lydia is annoyed with you. She doesn’t like working by herself.”

“This is why we should hire other people,” Stiles grumbled.

Derek huffed a quiet laugh. “So about that date?”

“It’s a yes, obviously.” Stiles froze. “Unless it’s like a gratitude thing. Because then thanks but no thanks.”

A warm hand slid into his. “Definitely not a gratitude thing.”

“Okay. Then we can start by you breaking me out of here.”

Derek's smile warmed Stiles down to his very core.

**Author's Note:**

> *slides in under the deadline like some kind of baseball analogy*
> 
> Come say hello on [tumblr!](https://theproblemwithstardust.tumblr.com)


End file.
